


About That Time Again

by AnonAutobot



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Kink Meme, M/M, Seduction, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAutobot/pseuds/AnonAutobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for this kink meme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=9801694#t9801694<br/>REQ: G1/movie - Ironhide/any - surprise public fellatio, dub-con, exhibitionism, seduction<br/>Ironhide drops and gives fellatio. In public. With no warning.<br/>Yep, that's basically it.</p><p>Things I would prefer to see:<br/>*It's 100% Ironhide's idea and fully consensual on his part.<br/>*Dub-con in that he doesn't ask for permission first, but he'll stop if told no.</p><p>Things that I would like to see but in no way require:<br/>*This is a fairly common thing coming from Ironhide and nobody's surprised to see it happening again.<br/>*This is Ironhide's preferred method of seducing a mech to his berth and it's been pretty successful so far.</p><p>I'd also be pretty happy to see on the receiving end: Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Perceptor, Wheeljack, Bluestreak, one or the other or both twins, any combination thereof, or any characters a potential author feels like using.</p><p>Sticky seems like the obvious method but if you could somehow make non-sticky work, I'd read the hell out of that too.</p>
    </blockquote>





	About That Time Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kink meme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=9801694#t9801694  
> REQ: G1/movie - Ironhide/any - surprise public fellatio, dub-con, exhibitionism, seduction  
> Ironhide drops and gives fellatio. In public. With no warning.  
> Yep, that's basically it.
> 
> Things I would prefer to see:  
> *It's 100% Ironhide's idea and fully consensual on his part.  
> *Dub-con in that he doesn't ask for permission first, but he'll stop if told no.
> 
> Things that I would like to see but in no way require:  
> *This is a fairly common thing coming from Ironhide and nobody's surprised to see it happening again.  
> *This is Ironhide's preferred method of seducing a mech to his berth and it's been pretty successful so far.
> 
> I'd also be pretty happy to see on the receiving end: Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Perceptor, Wheeljack, Bluestreak, one or the other or both twins, any combination thereof, or any characters a potential author feels like using.
> 
> Sticky seems like the obvious method but if you could somehow make non-sticky work, I'd read the hell out of that too.

“How long has it been now?”  
“Too long.” Smokescreen leant back in his chair and stared into his cube thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he picks someone soon.”  
“Like who?”  
“Dunno, mech.” Smokescreen grinned, tossing a datapad across the table. “That’s why I set up the betting pool.”  
“You really shouldn’t be making a profit on Ironhide.”  
“Who says I’m going to make a profit?”  
“Smokescreen, you always make a profit when you set up a betting pool.”  
“You’re just mad you’ve never won.”  
“Hardly.”

Jazz scanned the list of mechs on the datapad.  
“Well, he won’t go fer Prime. Not in public at any rate.”  
“Oh? Considering their history, I thought he would be a good bet.” Smokescreen smiled.  
“You’re slipping Smokes.” Jazz scrolled down the list, laughing as he came across his name.  
“Doubt he’d go for me, either. I’m already taken.” Smokescreen nodded in agreement.  
“True, but that hasn’t stopped him before. Remember when he went down on Brawn and ended up taking him _and_ Windcharger to his berth?”  
“Point.” Jazz nodded, returning his attention to the datapad, scrolling through the rest of the names. Next to him, Prowl stiffened as he saw his name flash past. Smokescreen chuckled.  
“Wouldn’t ‘make a profit’ if I didn’t allow for everything.” He laughed as Prowl glared at him. “Relax, you’re an outside chance.”  
“Bluestreak?” Jazz barely managed to stifle a squeak. Prowl’s doorwings quivered. Smokescreen shrugged, one optic on Prowl.  
“Why not?”  
“He’s too young.” Prowl snapped.  
“Yeah.” Jazz agreed with him, prompting startled glances from both Smokescreen and Prowl. “What? He is. He’s younger than any other mech ‘Hide’s gone for before.”  
“He went for Perceptor.” Smokescreen muttered. He hated it when others picked holes in his betting pool.  
“Mech, did you see the size of his spike when ‘Hide got it out? _I’d_ go for that!” Jazz gave a theatrical aroused shiver.  
“You are incorrigible.”  
“I’m just saying.”  
“Are you going to criticise all of my entries, or are you just going to make a bet?”  
“I’m betting…” Jazz selected his choice and the amount of credits he was prepared to wager.  
“Jazz!”

#~#

The betting pool had been active for less than a week before Ironhide made his move. As per usual, he knew nothing about the pool, no mech was allowed to tell him. He didn’t even find out about it afterwards. It was a closely guarded secret. Though evidently not fully guarded as Soundwave had already placed his bet. Smokescreen was sure that Blaster had something to do with that. The rec room was fairly packed, only a few mechs on night duty. The Decepticons hadn’t attacked in days. Things were perfect.

Ironhide strode into the rec room, fully intent on grabbing a cube and settling down to drink it. He barely noticed how various mechs locked their optics on to him as he entered. He went to the dispenser and filled himself a decent sized cube. Sitting down, he looked around the room, watching the mechs present. His optics landed on one mech and he smiled to himself, hiding the smile behind his cube. Today. Tonight. He was going to make his move tonight. Here. 

He watched the way Wheeljack was animatedly talking about something with Ratchet; hands gesturing, vocal indicators flickering as he talked. Ratchet nodded as he listened, evidently making a few suggestions of his own. Ironhide watched as he sipped his cube, thinking about what he was going to do. Before he knew it, his cube was empty. He didn’t hide the smile as he dispersed his cube and stood up.

It seemed as though a hush fell on the rec room as Ironhide crossed to where Ratchet and Wheeljack were sitting. Both mechs paused in their conversation as Ironhide approached, looking up at the red mech. They watched as he dropped to his knees. Ratchet watched as Ironhide pushed Wheeljack’s chair away from the table and spread his legs. Wheeljack, taken quite by surprise, didn’t react until Ironhide kissed his interface panel, and then it was only to make a surprised squeak. The squeak turned into a soft moan as Ironhide nuzzled the panel, licking and nipping around the seam to make Wheeljack retract it. And under that sort of attention, Wheeljack couldn’t hold out for long. His panel slid back with an audible noise, prompting gasps from everyone in the rec room. Attention was fully focused on Wheeljack and Ironhide now.

Ironhide grinned, leaning forward and nuzzling against Wheeljack’s spike housing. He could just see the tip of Wheeljack’s spike, and he couldn’t wait to taste it. He glanced up at Wheeljack, seeing exactly what he expected; a mixture of shock and lust that never failed to get his engine revving. Wheeljack moaned as Ironhide dipped his glossa to swirl at the tip of his recessed spike. Beside him, Ratchet echoed the moan as Ironhide pulled back to let Wheeljack’s spike extend. He glimpsed enough to make his engine purr before Ironhide swallowed Wheeljack’s spike in one expert manoeuvre. Tearing his optics away from the sight beside him, he gazed around the room. It wasn’t surprising to see that many others were in a similar state to him; slightly aroused, and not exactly sure what to do. It was always like this with Ironhide, and none of them had still worked out exactly what to do. Except Ironhide. He almost seemed to revel in the attention that he was given when he did this; not just from the mech he was pleasuring, but the other mechs around.

Wheeljack gasped as his spike extended. He had very little time to feel embarrassed as Ironhide took all of his spike in his mouth. His optics flickered as he processed the sudden hot wet sensation. Without realising it, his hands drifted to Ironhide’s helm, holding him in place. Ironhide gave a pleased purr which reverberated up his spike and straight to his spark Wheeljack moaned, optics offline now, simply enjoying the attention. And Wheeljack wasn’t the only one enjoying himself. Whenever Ironhide wanted a mech in his berth, he did this. And whenever Ironhide did this, other mechs found themselves with partners. Sometimes who happened to be closest at the time. It had even once devolved into a full out orgy once Ironhide and Mirage had left. Sideswipe whispered to Sunstreaker and they moved. Hound moved closer to Trailbreaker. Mirage let his hand rest over his interface panel. Bluestreak fled the room, speaking quietly but urgently into a commline.

Ironhide was an expert at doing this, Wheeljack decided. Optics offline, he listened to the sounds Ironhide made as he sucked his spike. The soft slip-slide and rasp of metal against metal. The sharp tang as Ironhide’s dentae scraped over the sensors on his spike. Wheeljack thrust forward, unable to help himself. He just wanted to bury his spike in that hot talented mouth and overload. Ironhide pulled back a little, hands resting on Wheeljack’s thighs to keep him in position. He squeezed gently, and Wheeljack’s optics flickered online, looking down at him. With an internal grin, Ironhide pulled back and changed his angle slightly, so that Wheeljack could see his spike disappearing into his mouth. Wheeljack groaned, appreciating the view. A few more groans behind him told him that he wasn’t the only one who appreciated the view. His cheeks flushed behind his facemask. Ironhide flicked off an optic in a wink.  
“They’re lovin’ lookin’ at ya. Watchin’ ya like this.”  
“Nnnnn…” Wheeljack moaned at the words Ironhide sent over a private commline. He knew exactly what sort of effect his demonstrations had on other mechs. And as far as he was concerned, the improvement in moral was worth any potential embarrassment. Though, by the time he was finished with Wheeljack, he didn’t want the mech to even be able to remember his own name, let alone how embarrassed he might have been about Ironhide going down on him in public.

Ratchet moaned as he watched Wheeljack’s spike slide in and out of Ironhide’s mouth. His chair was pulled back, and he found himself surrounded by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.  
“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Sideswipe murmured in Ratchet’s audio.  
“I’ve heard he’s good.”  
“The best.” Ratchet whispered back hoarsely.  
“You’re wishing that was you, aren’t you?”  
“You’re wishing that was your spike sliding in and out of Ironhide’s mouth.”  
“You wish it was you thrusting into Ironhide’s mouth.”  
“You wish it was you moaning because you’re so turned on.” Ratchet moaned, surrendering himself to the Twins’ touches.

Ironhide barely paid any notice when Ratchet’s chair was moved away, and he was sure that Wheeljack didn’t. All Wheeljack’s attention was focussed on him, focussed on the way he pulled his spike into his mouth, making sure to swirl his glossa over all the sensors on the tip as he let it out.  
“Frag…” Wheeljack dropped one hand to his thigh, fingers tightening against the plating. Ironhide grinned to himself, knowing it likely meant Wheeljack was close. From his position, he could smell the lubricant that was seeping from Wheeljack’s valve. But he didn’t want that, not right yet. Not here. There were some things that should certainly be best enjoyed in private. He resisted the urge to touch, devoting all his attention and skill to Wheeljack’s spike.

Wheeljack stiffened, vocal indicators flashing bright white as he overloaded, shooting transfluid into Ironhide’s mouth. Ironhide pulled back a little, just so he could swirl it round his mouth and really taste it before swallowing. Pulling off Wheeljack’s spike, Ironhide looked at him and licked his lips, getting a soft moan in reply. He stood up and held his hand out to help Wheeljack up. All optics fell on Wheeljack as he gripped Ironhide’s hand, letting the red mech pull him out of his seat. Wheeljack glanced at Ratchet; legs open, with the Twins’ fingers deep in his valve. He looked round the room, seeing mechs in various states; Hound riding Trailbreaker’s spike to his own overload, Mirage playing with his spike, Huffer and Gears kissing… A tug on his hand pulled his attention back to Ironhide, and he nodded, silently agreeing. They left the rec room hand in hand, leaving the others to their own pleasures.


End file.
